Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Spitting

What the fuck is it with people and spitting, anyway? On my travels, it's practically impossible to go anywhere and not stand in someone's freshly hoicked-up puddle of saliva.

I've never felt the urge to gob anywhere, not even when, as a much younger man, I used to play rugby or soccer (which is where I assume the role models come from.) And strangely enough, even if there is a need to gob when playing at the very highest level of sport, YOU'RE NOT PLAYING AT THE FUCKING HIGHEST LEVEL OF SPORT WHEN YOU'RE WALKING DOWN THE STREET WITH A FAG IN ONE HAND AND A FUCKING CAN OF WHITE DIAMOND IN THE OTHER, YOU FESTERING COCK-MUNCHER!!!!!!!!!

Yeah! You should have said.. rugger, or that wankers game, the one played by sufferers of Histrionic Personality Disease who fall on the floor and start crying if an opponent almost stands on their toes, then insult the ref when he doesn't fall for it.

I don't reckon the matter is complicated. The issue seems Monkey-see; Monkey-do. At least the yobbos playing televised soccer keep the inadequate members of society off the streets on Saturday afternoons.